


Color of my Blood

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Rape Fantasy, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU, happily married Jean and Eren have a few favorite games they like to play together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color of my Blood

**Author's Note:**

> please pay attention to the tags!!

"Can you lift me?" Jean asks.

Of course Eren can. Jean knows he can. 

"Can you fuck me against the wall?"

Eren's hips jerk before he can stop it; _yes_ , yes he can, he can hold Jean's frame up easily, practically with one arm, and pin him there like a butterfly behind a glass frame, impaled. They do it all the time, but there's something about the way Jean asks today, sort of – _snotty_ , like he's waiting for Eren to impress him, that gets heat flaring to life in Eren's gut. Makes him want to prove it to Jean, prove himself to this pretty little bitch who wouldn't give him the time of day. (Eren and Jean have been married three years, by the way.)

Jean leans against the headboard, watching Eren with that lazy, unimpressed stare. Eren sits just ahead of him on the bed, close – very close, he can feel the warmth from Jean's body, but they are not touching. Eren had been in the middle of getting undressed for bed, his normal routine after a very normal day, when Jean suddenly wanted to play. 

It distracted Eren so completely he only now realizes he's still holding a sock in one hand. He throws it off the bed and surges forward – 

"No. Don't touch me," Jean says, pushing Eren away, foot in the center of his chest. He gives a pretty decent kick, and Eren allows himself to fall back. "Fucking animal."

Jean gets off the bed and leaves the room. 

Eren stays where he landed, dick at full fucking speed to one of the hardest erections he's had in a while. 

He's considering. 

Considering the gap between Jean's long, slender thighs as he walks away. Considering how flexible he is. Considering how he fits beneath Eren, the noises he makes when he's fucked. Considering a few specific scenarios. Eren and Jean talked about – a few things. A few fantasies. Some of them involved Jean fucking Eren while degrading him, similar-ish things to what he just said, which would be _okay_ tonight, but Eren would have to switch gears pretty hard. 

Right now, from the way Jean is talking and walking and looking over his shoulder as he leaves, fucking _smug_ , fucking _coy_ , the little _tease_ , Eren's in the mood for one of their ideas that involve Eren fucking Jean so hard he's quivering and spent, unable to remember his own name, let alone to put on such an attitude.

He jumps from the bed.

Jean's in the kitchen. 

He's pulled on one of Eren's pajama tops, and nothing else. He's drinking Eren's whiskey, his expensive bottle, the bottle he's been saving, the one he brought home from his trip to Scotland last year. 

Eren grabs it from Jean's hand, ignoring his protest, and drinks it like a shot. 

"Oh fuck you, Eren, think you can just take what you want – "

"Like this?" Eren asks, slamming the cup onto the counter behind them, getting in Jean's space again, gripping Jean's ass. "I want that, I want your ass, Jean."

Jean shoves Eren back and twists, but is unable to break Eren's hold, trapped between Eren's body and the counter. "And why does that concern me?"

"Should've known what you were doing, flaunting that pretty ass in front of me,'' Eren says, digging his nails into Jean's flesh, into that aforementioned, plump part. Eren likes his ass. Likes his hips. Likes his long legs and his smart little mouth. He likes playing this role, a carnal, lust filled beast, barely holding himself back from throwing Jean onto the nearest surface and fucking him. "I'm an animal, remember?"

"Fuck off," Jean says, rolling his arm to dislodge Eren. Eren allows it. He rolls with it, taking a step back.

Eren allows most of the things Jean does to him, because Jean is a fucking twig. 

He's grown up nice and pretty, thin and long, he's got a build that wouldn't really put on muscle the way Eren has, even if he wanted to – sometimes Jean'll get the random urge to wake up early and jog for a mile or so in the mornings, but this never lasts longer than a few weeks. But Jean has better things to do with his time. Pretty, smart Jean in his office, with his paperwork and books and his glasses. 

Eren thinks about that when he's at the gym, sometimes. Eren isn't the tallest guy, but he's strong, his body is firm and hard with muscle, nothing like Jean's soft body, and when Eren's had an especially brutal workout and it feels like he's causing more harm than good – he thinks about Jean's thin thighs in his dress pants, his long fingers, thinks about how the throbbing pain when he's pushing himself harder is actually strength fortifying his body, burning as it goes, making his arms that much bigger, polishing his body that much more, so he can fuck Jean that much harder, hold him to the bed that much tighter. 

Jean really does not stand a chance against Eren, and the fact excites both of them. 

Jean shoves against Eren's chest and this time Eren stands his ground. He doesn't so much as twitch. Jean scowls and shoves again. Eren smiles, he knows it's not a pleasant smile. He takes a step forward, and Jean is forced to stumble along with it, until he's slammed against the refrigerator. 

"Look what you've done, Jean," Eren says, referring to his own cock, pressing pointed and hard against Jean's stomach. He ruts against him, using his skinny little body lazily, hands on either side of Jean's head, not properly pinning him because he knows this isn't the meat of the game.

Jean endures Eren's crude humping, scowling. You would never guess from his disgusted expression the slowly answering hardness between Jean's legs, the blush slowly starting to spread up his neck. 

"Does the spoiled princess like this more than he's pretending?"

It is sort of unreal, how well Eren can read Jean now. His face is all twisted up with put upon rage, but there's just a _slight_ narrowing of his eyes, genuine emotion – _No, Eren._ either that kind of teasing isn't part of the game today, or just not yet, but he knows without hearing anything else that he should drop it, so he does, and actually lets Jean escape.

Jean nearly falls over from the sudden release, then stumbles away, backing into the living room and glaring at Eren as he goes. 

"Fucking pervert," Jean says. He adds a bit of fear to his voice – "Get out of my house before I kick your ass."

Ah. Okay, Jean's settled on the game. It's one they had to wait until they moved out of the apartment to play the first time, because Jean didn't want to hold back, holding back would make the whole thing feel stupid, he had said. 

Eren hadn't understood until he heard just how loud Jean could get. 

Eren pushes himself off the refrigerator, stalking forward, and Jean's eyes widen in fear, taking a few more steps back, before turning around.

He runs. 

Eren runs after him. 

Maybe Jean could outrun him in a sprint, Eren doesn't spend much time jogging. But there's not much space to pick up speed in their home, he hears Jean's feet slapping against the hardwood of the hallway, fast and frantic into the living room, and that's where Eren corners him again, _slamming_ him against the wall – 

" _Get off!_ " Jean snarls, bucking, and Eren slams him against the wall again, hard enough for the hanging pictures of their families rattle. _Now_ Eren pins him properly, Jean's thin wrists trapped securely in Eren's hands, above his head.

"I thought you were gonna kick my ass?" Eren asks, mocking. To mock him further, Eren gathers both Jean's wrists in one hand, and wraps his free arm around Jean's narrow waist and yanks him closer, so Jean has to scramble to keep his balance. It's a ridiculously easy hold, Jean should be able to break it, but it's obvious he can't, even as he struggles violently, planting his feet for leverage. It's useless. Eren's arousal grows, watching this, feeling Jean's body jerk and pull against him, muscles straining. Eren grins and pulls him even closer, humping up against him to show off.

Curling his lip, Jean spits in Eren's face. 

That's new.

Eren blinks up at him, then calmly releases Jean's waist, wipes the spit off his cheek with two fingers – considers it, then licks it.

Jean's eyes widen, stunned for a moment. With a new strength bred from pure disgust, he jerks away wildly, and somehow manages it, pulling free. He gets about four steps away before Eren's got him again, wrapping his arms around him from behind, lifting him off the ground. 

"Fuck – let go!" Jean yells, kicking wildly, in real danger of tipping them both over. This would've gotten their neighbors in their old apartment calling the police, but in their detached home, there's no one close enough to hear Jean's near screeches – "I said _let go_ , you fucking - _STOP!_ "

Jean kicks at the wall, knocking them both off their feet, but Eren controls the fall, fortunately for Jean's head, which he barely manages to cushion with his hand, and for Eren, who quickly maneuvers on top, getting Jean on his hands and knees.

"Fuck, don't _touch_ me!" Jean keeps fighting, trying to scramble forward on his hands and knees, and Eren lets him, just to grab his ankle and drag him right back. He smiles again, enjoying the sight as he drags Jean toward to him. Yeah, he's ready for it now, his body is very familiar with this view – Jean's waist, the curve of his back – it knows what to do. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Jean hisses, voice shaking in a mix of disgust, hate and fear. Eren's got one hand on the back of his neck, holding it to the floor as his other hand goes for the supplies. 

This is the only time in their game that Jean even remotely cooperates, when Eren's stretching him out, using the lube, spreading him wider and wider with his fingers. They tried skipping on prep only once before, and it was a mistake neither of them want to repeat again in this lifetime. 

"Fuck," Jean says, making it sound tight and pained, but his slack mouth gives him away. He can get off on Eren's fingers alone easily, he loves it, and Eren can feel the restrained little twitches, trying hard not to give Eren his usual encouraging, delicious little rolls of his hips as Eren fucks him three fingers. "Fucking – disgusting. Pervert." 

"Get ready, cause you're about to have something way bigger shoved up there."

"No, yo – fuck, you fuh – fucking – " Jean covers his mouth with both hands to smother the long, pleased moan when Eren rubs _just so_.

Eren knows Jean is ready when he suddenly surges out from underneath him, fight renewed, scrambling for escape. He manages to grab the leg of a side table, and when Eren yanks him again, it comes along with him, then _crashes_ to the floor. Eren instinctively checks for damage – the remote, the stack of DVDs they had on there scattering across the floor, but Jean has no such concerns, on his feet and bolting down the hall. 

Eren's after him less than a second later and he's proud of Jean for how fast he gets to their bedroom, almost managing to close the door – but not quite. Eren forces it back open, grabs Jean and throws him onto the bed. 

"This the bed your husband fucks you on?" Eren asks, climbing on after him, pinning him to the mattress. 

"He'll fucking rip you apart for this," Jean says savagely, glaring over his shoulder. Last time Eren played this part up too much – asking how strong Jean's husband was, if he was a _dangerous man_ , etc – it had aroused him more than he'd expected, but had obviously broken the scene somewhat for Jean. So instead of asking anything else, he just remembers how furiously passionate Jean's voice was when he said it before, and grabs Jean's legs, forces them apart and shoving his fingers back inside that slick warmth, still dripping with lube. 

Jean wails, trying to buck Eren off, tries to press his legs together, but Eren's forcing them apart with the bulk of his body. He gives another loud, enraged cry, and it sounds so real Eren almost stops. 

Eren covers Jean's mouth, leans in close.

"Ready for it? Ready to moan like a bitch in heat?"

Jean glares at him out the corner of his eye, and really this is Eren's fault: Jean bites down, _hard_.

"Fuck!" Eren says, but Jean doesn't release his fingers, biting harder. " _Fuck_ , Jesus fuck." He has to pinch the back of Jean's neck with his free hand before Jean finally releases him. Eren glances down at his poor fingers. He didn't break skin, but there's some impressive indents. 

Jean is trying to crawl away, but Eren clamps down on his legs, holding him against the mattress.

"Gonna pay for that, princess," Eren breathes, voice heavy with lust that's hard to explain. He likes when Jean doesn't hold back, when he _really_ , really tries, with everything he has, and still finds himself completely, perfectly, unconditionally at Eren's mercy. 

There's not much of it to be found. 

He flips Jean onto his back, and this is easy, even as Jean tries to grab the sheets, Eren breaks his hold with his wounded, throbbing fingers, pins Jean's hands over his head again.

Spreads his legs, holding them open. Eren strokes his own dick a few times, staring down at the lovely sight as he gets himself slick and ready for Jean's hole. Jean watches, staring down at Eren's hardness. 

Here's the surrender, the realization finally sinking in; Jean never had a chance. And as the fight seeps away, as Jean's body goes soft and still under Eren, the arousal starts taking its place. Eren pants, working himself harder, watching Jean's shaky inhale, his wet lips, eyes slipping shut as he basks in this feeling, being held down like this, made so utterly – utterly helpless. Jean tugs a few more times at his wrists, confirming what he already knows, and moans quietly. 

Eren can't imagine finding this appealing, himself. He can barely even stand it when shirts are too tight around the collar, let alone someone's hands. 

But he's thankful Jean does. 

Jean loves it. Jean can't get enough of Eren bending him in whatever shape he wants, holding him there, stuffing him up, then twisting him into something new and filling him up even more. Loves to fight it as long and as hard as he can because then he really is helpless.

Eren starts pressing inside. 

" _No_ , please – " Jean begs, voice breaking, in utter contrast to his dick, hard and leaking between his legs. "Please."

"Ask me nicely."

"I – please stop, please, I'll do anything – "

"Offer to suck my dick."

Jean twists his face like this is disgusting, like he doesn't have to grab Jean's to keep him from choking on Eren's dick whenever he gets the chance. "I-I'll suck your d-dick."

"Are you sure?" Eren asks, pressing in deeper. "This hole down here seems pretty hungry. I think we both know what it needs."

"Please, no, no, don't," Jean pleads, and he doesn't know how Jean manages it but there's still a shred of his arrogant character from before, in the way he tilts his chin, wincing, unable to believe how far he's fallen, reduced to _begging_. 

"Don't worry, princess. You'll like it. I'll make you come. You can show your husband how hard I fucked you when he comes home, alright? Spread your cheeks so he can see how wrecked I left your hole." 

Jean shakes his head in weak denial, but has accepted there is no escape, that he's here, under Eren, as long as Eren wants him to be. He curls his hands in the bedspread, holding tight in a shaking grip as Eren slides in, Jean's body offering pathetic, slick resistance, Eren groans, growing impossibly harder at the feel of this: how his dick forces this new shape inside Jean, how Jean's body molds to it, made for him. 

"No, no, no," Jean gasps, eyes closing tight.

Eren waits a beat – just a beat, watching Jean's face – then pulls out almost entirely before _shoving_ back in, violently. 

Jean screams.

It sets a satisfying, brutal rhythm, wild and powerful, Eren's entire body burning with it, thrusting all of it, all of his pent up lust _up and in_ Jean's body, watching him cry out in reluctant ecstasy at the feel of it. 

"He doesn't fuck you like this, does he?" Eren asks, panting, squeezing Jean's thin wrists, then going to his hips, digging his fingers in there, already excited to see the future bruises. 

Jean shakes his head, sobbing brokenly with each thrust, starting up his _no, no, nos_ again, and Eren has already had time to question and dismiss concerns about why he finds this so appealing, Jean shaking and broken, reduced to weak little begging sobs, and today it just amps his arousal higher, and he thrusts harder. 

It is strange to fuck Jean like this, though, with no concern for his pleasure. Jean wants to be fucked, brutally, used and discarded, and it should be easier for Eren but it isn't, even as he enjoys playing this role, he misses the desperate sounds Jean makes whenever Eren strikes deliberately at that sensitive knot of nerves, how going slower and softer can make him tremble and beg – 

Then he remembers what started this, what Jean asked from the beginning. 

He lifts Jean from the bed, holding his weight as easily as promised. Jean moans in confusion, giving one feeble attempt to escape, clawing for freedom as Eren, still deep inside, moves the single step to the wall, slams Jean against it, and promptly begins fucking him as hard as he can manage.

"Oh – oh my god," Jean moans, eyes wide at the sudden shift, the new angle. _Yes_ , this is better for both of them, each one of Eren's brutal thrusts striking _just there_ , _just right_ , and Jean arches wildly, as much as he can in the space Eren allowed. "Oh my god."

"Beg – me – to stop."

"Please!" Jean moans, loud and long, head tipped back, both hands clinging to Eren's wrist. He can't stop the motion of his hips, rocking into Eren's pace, mouth slack, eyes glazed. "Please, stop! Please – juh-just. Just – don't come inside me, please."

"I'm gonna," Eren says, suddenly turned on by the idea in a way he never has before. He's taken it for granted that that's his space, Jean's hole, for him to come in, and is now abruptly aware of the claim he's making. "Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up til it's spilling out, running down your legs."

"No," Jean sobs in defeat, shaking his head. 

Eren doesn't bother to come up with an excuse why evil rapist Eren would grab for Jean's cock, he just does, he just really wants to see Jean overwhelmed with how good Eren make shim feel. 

"Oh god," Jean moans again, tugging "I'm – oh god – _Eren_ – "

He comes, a trembly, powerful orgasm that has his toes curling. He's fighting against Eren's hold again and this time he knows it's because he wants to wrap tight around – and god, Eren wants it too, except the whole performance has tipped him over, too, and he finds himself clenching onto Jean's wrists in a sort of berserk type strength, fucking him through it, filling him up, stuffing him properly, _god_ , his entire body tenses with it, vision whiting out as he slams into Jean's body, which has no choice but to take it. 

He comes back down to the sound of his own shaking, frantic breathing. Arms shaking. Still holding Jean's utterly limp body against the wall. 

"Eren," Jean says, voice scratchy, eyes puffy. 

"Yeah, it's me," Eren says, trying to shed the wildness still shaking in his arms. He moves his hands from Jean's wrists, and Jean wraps his arms around Eren's shoulders. Eren wraps his arms around his waist, moving to the bed, and Jean clings closer. "I got you."

Once or twice they've done the whole bit. It's when Eren was especially rough with Jean, tossing him around, smacking him. Long, thorough aftercare where Eren carried him to the bath and asked what happened, saying how _he'd kill whoever did this_. But this was tame in comparison, and they're both clearly exhausted. He'll just fall asleep holding Jean like this – hiding him against the wall, keeping himself between Jean and any actual harm that might walk through the door. He can tell from the way Jean tucks his head against Eren's neck. He knows. The rest is implied.


End file.
